Reluctant Truths
by enaskoritsi
Summary: You're the only one that sees me, and you have no idea how much I detest you for it. I hate how you're the only purpose that makes my life worth living, and that without you, I would have nothing at all.


_Disclaimer :_ I do not own Invader ZIM, any of its characters, or anything associated.

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.:. Reluctant Truths .:.

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I wonder how many times I've stood here, my feet planted on the ground in a way that told the world that confidence seeped from every pore on my skin. How many instances have I gazed upon those acid green walls, protecting the one I truly wanted with a mockingly penetrable defense? What number of recording devises have I grasped in my eager hands, almost crushing them to pieces with the force of my own anticipation?

Yet here I am, back to a scene that has played one too many times before, ready to fade into prehistoric black and white with its worn design. I'm outside as usual, the weight of darkened clouds heavy on my thin shoulders, staring at a vapid window that hides a target of reptilian skin and bloody eyes. Unimportant pedestrians pass by as they always do, burning me with their condemning stares that sizzle my skin until it blisters and almost bursts into flames.

There you are; just a flash of viridian flesh and calculating indigo eyes peeking through the glassy portal to the real world. A few obviously fake strands of sinful black hair are all that remain as you must be turning away, ready to retreat into that mess of twisted coiled wires and rejected schemes that make up the ruin you call home. No one pays any attention; you're just one of them, another member of the world's flawed, idiotic society.

_How?_

How is it even possible? How have you molded so easy into a population that has rejected me from the start? Why do they welcome you with open arms, folding you under their wing with all the acceptance and toleration anyone can possess? Why do they turn me, a human who desperately wants them, away with loathing, but take you, an alien hellbent on destroying this planet, and make you one of their own?

The weak spying mechanic I'm clutching begins to tremble as my hands quiver, but I cannot stop the tremors.

They say I'm crazy, insane. Every being on this planet has whispered about me behind their hands or slapped my intellect outright. Each speck of proof I find is ignored, all statements I utter are tossed aside. I'm a blatant black sheep, a refined mouse among savage rats that cannot accept their brethren. They treat me like I'm an_ animal_, mock me like a hideous creature on some rundown roadside stand.

I've been an outcast for every second of my life that I can remember, starting from the day of my birth to today's violent sunrise. Through years of rejection and eons of cruelty, I know I was never meant to be one of them. After countless bruises from being kicked off of a jungle gym, or the infinite memories of jeering and taunting calls, I have had to admit that I stand apart from the rest, never destined to be another face in a nameless crowd.

It's painful, more than I know it should be.

I know I'm in my right mind, so competent that it almost hurts. I am the only one who can see you for what you really are. These eyes are the only ones that aren't blind. I can foil each of your schemes and counter with one of my own, parry each attack you throw as you respond to mine. If it wasn't for my own skilled and genius mind, this world would have have fallen even to you with your stupidity and poorly-thought plans.

And still, they call me crazy.

It makes me doubt myself, makes me think.

_Maybe I am._

Sometimes I find myself standing on the brink. I can look over the cragged, jagged edge and see the vengeful, soulless pool of lunacy crashing upon my shelter, the frozen foam splashing my face. One little jump is all it would take to set me free, to give in to it all and let myself be locked away. It could be over in a second, the frustration, the bitter victories that really mean nothing at all. I could forget your face, that mouth always twisted with a prideful laughter so foolish that I almost want to join in with it.

It's not true though, I know that. I can never ignore what's happening around me, whether I'm the only one who wants to see it or not. I can't pretend that you and your inhumanity are just the imaginings of a rambling boy. But still it calls me, the mania eating away at my brain and chewing it to useless pieces to bounce around my skull.

That's why I need you.

You keep me tied down, ironically, to Earth. Because, I _can't_ ignore you; I can't delude myself into agreeing with the unseeing population and state that you are, in fact, just a human child. I_ know_, with every normal or deranged cell in my body, that you are an alien. _You are._ That fact in itself, it's what saves me. It tells me that I'm still here, still me. It keeps me from jumping off that cliff and drowning myself, suffocating until my lungs burst into ruined fragments in my chest and my heart stops beating.

You give me a purpose, another way to fill my time then trailing along fruitless ends to kill the emptiness. With every supposedly grand scheme you concoct, I have a chance to make a difference, to prove that I'm really worth something. The void in my life before your arrival was wider than any canyon on Earth's surface, and though it may sound odd, you filled that abyss. I can look at all those ridiculing faces, the pointed fingers and narrowed eyes, and know, inside, that I've saved their lives.

And, you're the only one that sees me. Brushing past the natural enmity and the electric animosity that surges between us, you know my ranting is not ridiculous and delusional. You know it's true, that I'm right, that everything I say is the undeniable truth.

_You can't pretend any other way._

Even with our loathing and hatred, you view me as an equal, or as close as you can hold anyone. In your own way, you respect me; I know it, because even as much it kills me to admit it, I respect you too. We're the only two beings on this planet that even have a clue, and there has to be some sort of connection there.

You have no idea how much I detest you for it.

I despise that my greatest enemy is the only one that makes my life worth living another cursed second. The sheer rage of it boils my blood, steaming my veins until their weak walls almost crumble from the pressure. It sends little demons under the surface of my skin, itches I can't scratch away without tearing myself apart. The power in that, even if you do not know it, the fact that you have such control in my life...a menace like you! It's an abomination in itself.

But even though I need you now doesn't mean I always will.

All I need to do, and it should be so simple, is to get one person, _just one_, to believe me. I need one human being to agree with my evidence, because that one will be able to do what I cannot. Uninhabited by my reputation and my almost leper-based status, he would gain belief and foundation, my cause would be legitimate! Then, all it would take is a quick rush to the operating room, the flash of a scalpel, and it would be all over! Everything, it would all be revealed into the luminous, undeniable light of day!

Finally..._I wouldn't need you anymore._

I'd have others who knew me for who I was, a savior, a hero, Earth's crusader. People would respect me; they'd trip over my feet to beg my forgiveness and hear even a single word be uttered from my lips. History would carve my name into every book, me, the discoverer of extraterrestrial life. It would be wonderful. It _will_ be wonderful!

It's easy to ignore the fact that I'm apprehensive, afraid. I tell myself I'm not worried about what will happen, the consequences of such a monumental action. Tossing my anxieties aside is so easy, so simple just to push it all in the back of my mind.

Except in my dreams.

It plagues me there, the fear. The fear that, even amongst the glory and praise, the recognition and honor, that I...won't be happy. That all I'll know at the end of the day is that I once again have no purpose, no meaning. It'll be that emptiness again, that darkness.

I'm scared.

But I can't stop...

Because there's a chance...

And I have to take it.

So I stop the shaking in my hands, and the resolve tenses my fingers around the camera. Like so many times before, I inch towards your fence, trailing my eyes over the gnomed-defenses that have defeated me so many times before. My feet dance lightly on the ground as I trace a path I have come to memorize, almost able to feel a rut under my feet from where I have worn down the earth. So much repetition, and yet I keep thinking it may be different this time.

Inside I know it doesn't make a difference.

It doesn't matter if it's the hundredth time, or the thousandth, or even the millionth. I have the play this game, even if it leads me to ruin.

It's simply all I have.

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_Author's Note :_ Thank you for reading. Please review; you have no idea how much it means to me.

Now that that's out of the way, this is my first Invader Zim fanfiction. It's basically about Dib and his obsession with Zim. There really isn't any pairing. I hope it's in-character and basically, good, because I really tried. I do kind of like it, somehow.

So what do you think? Should I stay writing for this fandom or hightail it out and stick to only reading in shame?

(Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes I missed, but there was no one to proofread my work at the time)


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